After A While, The Characters I'm Writing

No One Knows How To Write A Novel Until It's Been Written

How Could I Tell The Doctor What Was Wrong With Me? I Didn't Understand It Myself. I Couldn't Articulate The Pain; It Was The Pain Of Nothingness. My Fear Was Of The Weather, The Atmosphere, The Very Air. What Good Did Safety Tips Do Me Now? 'avoid Water, Metal Objects, Rooftops; Stay Off The Telephone In A Storm, Don't Think Glass Can Protect You; Even If A Storm Was 8 Miles Away, You're Still Not Safe From A Strike. Avoid Life Perhaps That Was The Answer. The Number One Safety Tip, Stay Away From It All.

I Read Betty Smith's "a Tree Grows In Brooklyn," All Of Shirley Jackson's Books, Which I Loved.

Here's The Thing About Luck...you Don't Know If It's Good Or Bad Until You Have Some Perspective.

Crying Wasn't Like Riding A Bike. Give It Up, And You Quickly Forget How It's Done.